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Munrarae's Musings

As her eyes came to the last word on the ill-lit page she was reading, Munrarae knew her mother had been more than generous. She'd scowled and spoken sternly with Munrarae (not a pleasant experience for anyone, and uncomfortably intimidating) for less. Rarae had absentmindedly given the book-absorbed request to finish the chapter when her mother Laurria walked in on her reading and reminded her of her duties. She wondered why her mother trusted her, given her previous examples of finishing the chapter and then a few more, before guiltily rising to task or being caught. She supposed it was a chance to prove herself worthy of trust.

Munrarae reluctantly set a ribbon in the book and put it on her bed with the pile of others waiting to be read. She brushed through the swinging door of her room, careful to latch it behind her to keep the tauri out. Making her way to the pool whose sides she was to sweep, she reflected on her position. Her honor had died, in her own eyes if not others', since the day at Lessons when she'd knowingly done wrong. She was worthless, for she had not felt great fear until she'd been caught, and had not even considered the repercussions while she acted. Her own vileness disgusted her. She'd given in to lesser (though different) temptations regularly, without more than token restraint. Her conscience beat her until she felt even less worth, scrubbing the pool with as much vigor as she could, relishing the ridiculous pain in her muscles as deserved. She knew little real work, Laurria being of good means. Rarae imagined it would have done her some good to truly labor, building strength of will as well as strength of body. Another aspect of her disgust with herself came as her dumpy, misshapen figure; another failiure of willpower, both with treats and with exercise.

The tarnish of her honor came back to her again, as her sweat of her pitiful labor dampened the fur on her back and trickled through the hairs on her head. Even her indulgent mother had condemned her, though advising her to forget her transgression and be done with it. She had copied the entire End Examination without her Teacher's knowledge when the opportunity presented itself, intending to take it home and study it. Her mediocre marks had been frightening her, dropping commonly below eighty-fives in this class, and she was desperate to secure a good mark for her EE. Too desperate. She was caught and treatened with failiure and expulsion, but a sobbing and sincere entreaty to the Master of her Teaching Place had reduced her punishment to a mere blackening of her Honor marks on the last session's report. She knew she could never trust herself again, and thought herself beyond cutting down, but it still hurt when even her mother said she deserved to fail the year of that Lesson.

She raised her dripping head and searched the sky for a cure to the wrench in her insides. The sight of the brassy sky gave her little comfort, laden with the luminous Khorean heat. She bent again to her well-procrastinated chore, but started nervously when she felt a cool touch on her shoulder.

"It wouldn't be so miserable if you did it in the morning, when it wasn't so hot."

Her foster-brother's ill-timed advice stung like hi'iez flies in an open wound, and her upset sarcasm was unleashed.

"Do you really think so? Are you quite sure?I thought midday was the best time to do outside chores." Afrilau's hurt expression softened her irritation into ashamed contrition. She knew he didn't mean to be a nag, but her rather bent state of mind interpreted everything as a personal affront, since she was being so internally critical.

"I'm sorry, Afri. I guess I'm kinda prickly this afternoon. Must be the sweat in the fur."

Afri, well used to her sorry attempts at humor when in a funk such as he knew she was, did not reply, but took the pool broom from her and started sweeping, his near-equine musculature undulating beneath the chocolate-clouded sheen that had been his color since the desolation of his clan had sent him into hiding with her family. He, a head taller than she, would not stand for any attempts to retake her rightful chores (for which she already felt guilty), but continued the job back to the point she had started, in the leafy shade of the kale that stood at the top of the pool steps, making for a great deal of summer leaf-catching. Rarae disconsolately regarded the shade-spotted water, and gave a heavy sigh as Afri returned the broom to is place among the hawthorns bordering the cool water. He turned and looked curiously at her.

"Why are you so dispirited, in the height of the season, a fortnight before the Midsummer's Eve Festival? Has that featherhead Mair been bothering you again?"

Mention of Rarae's chief adversary only sunk her lower in her gloom. If Mairnatali Savinnon, Afri's disassociated sister, ever heard of Rarae's dishonor, she would make sure Rarae felt worse than she could ever do with her self-chastisement. And the Festival was thirteen days away; that meant the Voice Trials would start within a cycle of day-names. Competition was fierce for the coveted solos in the seasonal Solstice Songs. Mair was the only juvenile on their House's tribunal, having wangled her way there through manipulation of the pity her brother deserved for their exile. Rarae was up for the role that sang the Iluvi'en Aria, the highlight of the Songs, the voice of the Summer Fires in the traditional epic drama of the summer season. If she was judged by her own House in the trials (a common enough occurrence, though the system tried to keep impartiality), Mair would surely shoot her down.

Not that she didn't deserve it, after her transgression, she was sure.If she got to sing it, though, it might nullify the apathetic penance she was enduring for her guilt. "I'm just feeling the weight of my sins. Don't worry about it."

Afri gave her a scornful glance. "Sins. I'm not denying that what you did was wrong, but put it behind you, Rai." She did not see the heavy hand, claws retracted in play, until it was too late.

She spluttered incoherently and smiled, her mood bettered for a little while at least, as she swam back to where he had pushed her in. He grinned slyly and dove in beside her. She immediately scrambled onto his back, as he squirmed and tried to dunk her, but she had long perfected the trick of staying just loose enough that she could keep her head above water while he went under, but tight enough that he couldn't get free. He went for the opposite strategy, rising up to his full height, and then diving headfirst. She had to let go, but he didn't get her. Instead, they floated companionably together, feeling the cool of the House swim-hole as a pleasant contrast to the shimmering heat of the air above them. Afri turned.

"Well, heart of mine, what say we finish the day's workload and go practice for Voice Trials?"

In that instant, her despondent mood returned in full force. He could not make her really forget, not like he wished he could. She was far too conscience-heavy to let herself feel much undeserved pleasure. The chores did not appeal to her as she usually was, but her guilt made them seem fitting.

"Let's go. Didn't M'ma say we ought to clear the Grounds and add the junk to the woodpile?"

Mairnatali Savinnon was feeling particularly malevolent. She did not usually kick the tauri very hard, but this afternoon the pinkish gashes from her razor toenails were a little darker against the russet hides than she could explain away to their priggish keeper. They cringed from her as she hissed in quiet ire, but submitted when she apprehended each by one of its short, curved horns. Her one magical skill, healing, was not one she was often motivated to use, except to cover up the unintended results of her frustration. This time, she put her hostility to the back of her mind and settled into the breathing patterns that promoted regeneration. The angry reddish scratches lightened to a healthy pink, and the tasty bovine blood eased its frantic welling. She left the rest to nature, intending to ascribe this latest affliction to a passing, hungry avian predator; maybe somebody's reptilian familiar. They'd be thankful to her for chasing it off before it did more damage.

Releasing her mind from its patterns and the tauri from her sinewy grip, she rose to complete the errand her attack had interrupted. Her wiry tail lashed in remembered annoyance, and she stalked on toward the House's book tower.

That shattering Munrarae! She and her stupid Journey-level voice. Just because her dam was an Adept, she thought she was so skilled! Well, she wasn't. Mair had had a countless many more toms Follow her at the autumn festivals. And even request songs. Come to think of it, Munrarae hadn't even Danced at any of the shattered Festivals! And she called herself the Clarion. How pretentious. Actually, though, to be fair, it was Mair's own brother who had given her that title, and now the dumpy little Silvan couldn't go anywhere under another name and be recognized. But it was Mair, self-styled Lady of Serenades, whose lithe form the toms chased when she sang... No matter that her music Masters called her voice strident, or that Afri politely labeled her "shrill", she captured the audiences that mattered, and the despised Clarion merely entertained the frowzy elders with her uneven repertoire. Another failure of the vaunted 'Rion: she wasted her time learning the range of genres, instead of concentrating on the proper sphere of guileful adolescent musical suggestion. How pretentious.

It hadn't helped Mair's frame of mind any when she'd heard her prig rival and her priss brother rehearsing together, harmonizing to the Iluvi'en. They sounded so innocent! As if everyone didn't know they hopped in the pool together at the slightest opportunity. The obvious progression from companionable swimming was seen as equivalent to the elaboration prior to companionable sleeping. And no one seemed to notice the pair's incessantly soggy camaraderie. That was one of the reasons for Mair's disgust with her brother. One of many.

Her footsteps rang harshly through the courtyard and the colonnade as she ascended the first, open stairway to the second floor, from which the spiral book tower stairs rose. The intricate tangles of decorative knotwork inlay on the walls and stair treads were wasted on her, inward as her mind was turned. She knew a way to get back at Munrarae for all the slights she'd given: take one of her precious books and leave it to be mauled by the elements. Everybody knew Rarae was the principal devotee of the book tower; thus it was to her that the blame for the destruction of a precious tome would fall. Especially if Mair chose one of the Silvan's known favorites.

Mair's lip curled as she made her way to the section of curved wall of which Rarae most often read. The implausible fantasies and the tales of ancient legend, titles flickering in the radiant lamplight, were not to Mair's taste. There was not much that could hold her attention, and the kind of graphic description which interested her was not found in this library. Mair scanned the worn bindings for some book Rarae might read, and settled on the title she found most interesting. A sappy romance, the book was nearly disintegrating with use. And Rarae was the one who used books. She hooked it down with a clawed thumb, and hurried out of the unnaturally quiet tower. She pondered where to leave it to the most purposeful damage, and selected the colonnade roof as the literate Silvan's most frequent and most conspicuous haunt. Her steps now were more cautious. Her way was clear, but if she was seen, her contrivance would be undone. She lightened her steps further.

Afrilau bade Munrarae sia as she slunk off to her chamber requesting solitude, perhaps to mope, but he thought it more likely she would lose her grief in someone else's writing. She was not made for long-term unhappiness, his little sister. Especially not if there was something with which she could distract herself. He envied her the resilience she seemed to take for granted in love. He, several years her elder, was having trouble shaking off the effects of his partner's sudden decision to leave him and go on his Journey. Afri couldn't blame him, for journeyman status was an honor, especially in their craft. Samrais could have done nothing else, and he was quite gentle about their separation, but Afri was still in a black misery about it, as well as he hid it. Sam had been not only his mate, but his best friend and companion in apprenticeship, second only to Rarae. Afri strummed a melancholy chord on the gtar he still held from their rehearsal. He hummed the opening of one of their songs, Sam's and his, and brushed a lock of still-damp sable mane from his eyes. The song was a pensive one, and Afri gave it a fitting presentation. As the last notes died, he closed his eyes, tears long since banished. He flicked an ear behind him, at the unskillfully concealed padding of his older sister's feet. He decided to allow her her little surprise, and pretended to jump when she laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, hello, Mair. how are things?"

She gave him a condescending sneer and smoothed the silvery fur on her hips.

"I could ask the same of you, but I think I can tell from your playing. I was looking for you , to rehearse for the Voice Trials. Come inside and accompany the Iluvi'en for me. It's sweltering out here."

She turned, not waiting for him to follow, and strode with an unnecessary amount of noise, under the colonnade into the Hall of their House. He stood, a bit wearily, and took his gtar after her. That was all she needed, anyway. His mind needn't be there, though to have his soul in the music might help her hopelessly emotionless rendition. He didn't know, though; it never had before. She just didn't seem to see how music was emotion.

The shade in the huge Hall was helpful to the pads on his fingers; the sun had heated the metal strings of the gtar until his calluses began to slough off. He reminded himself that the sun probably wasn't good for the wood of the body, either. Or the tuning.

"Afri! Pay attention. We're starting from the thirtieth measure."

He let his fingers go on without him, and tuned his mind out from his sister's rather screechy version of the impassioned Voice of Fire. He found his cogitation settling on Sam, and tore himself away before he could start down that uncomfortable spiral train of thought. Mair was still screeching. If only she would feel it, like 'Rae did...

That was an acceptable path for his meandering mind to follow. Poor 'Rae was still scared to shivering gloom that her entire scholarly career would be ruined by her rather thoughtless act of opportunism. She'd get over it, eventually, but having learned a lesson, she'd be the better for it. Meanwhile, he sympathized. He could amplify the guilt of snitching tarts from the windowsill, and feel how she felt. Except without the rewarding taste of rreza berries. He felt her pain, and ignored Mair's surprised look as it filtered into his playing.

Mair couldn't sing for more than an hour, due to her hopeless breath control, so he was free in a relatively short time, compared to some of the other favors she required of him. He really didn't enjoy teaching her the lessons she ignored in class, but he felt obligated to provide whatever assistance she demanded. He was her brother, after all. She flounced off in the direction of the apprenticed toms' wing of the House, and he scratched his ear thoughtfully as he hung the gtar on the wall with its fellows, and ambled over to the piaforte on the dais that served the Hall as an indoor stage. Settling in a comfortable slouch on the carved bench, he ran a few scales and launched into his most intricate composition. He'd won some prize or other for it, but it seemed like he'd never reach Journey-level. Sam had been gone... oh, too long. And with Mair constantly undermining his apprenticeship to the Performance Master, he'd been running in compositional and musically theoretical circles for several years. He wasn't sure why the Master despised him so much, but he'd been held back from three promotions as yet: junior and senior apprenticeship, and now his Journey. He was beginning to consider dispensing with the formalities of recognized rank, and just take his Journey as a wandering minstrel. They were welcome everywhere, especially those with classical training and a good ear for improv. But no, he couldn't abandon Rarae to the tender mercies of his blood sister. He pounded out the dissonant exposition.

But oh, how he wanted to Journey! Perhaps he could finagle it with the Master keeping track of the number and location of bards abroad, so that it could be a transfer of apprenticeship for Rarae. He was sure there was a competent, amiable Master somewhere out there from whom things could be learned that no one else could teach. On subjects in which 'Rae was interested.

He punctuated the last flourish of a chord with his determination, and was truly surprised when he looked up and the small crowd he'd gathered from the toms' wing sprang from their seats with wild applause. He gave an elegant bow and strode off the stage in true virtuoso fashion, abandoning his performance at the edge of the dais. He thanked the toms, mostly very junior apprentices, and ruffled a few ears. They all knew him, but always seemed slightly awed after any performance he put on. He couldn't say why; his skill level was not the highest in the Hall, but his recitals, as well as those of his friends' that included him, were always packed. Usually with girls, though. That rather embarrassed him. He was reasonably sure they didn't come just for the music...

Samrais had. That was how they'd met. Afri had been performing his first composition, and Sam, from a conservatory on the other side of the forest, had heard about it by word of mouth. At first, he'd been reluctant to approach Afri, but their friendship was cemented with their first intramural performance, a trio with Munrarae. The passion Sam put into his music extended to other areas, as well...

Afri blinked owlishly as he came out from under the colonnade. The reddish light of sunset surprised him. He always forgot how long that piece really was. Where had 'Rae been all this time? He started for her room, thinking to cheer her out of the despondency that had undoubtedly repossessed her, but he paused at the sight of a very female silhouette in her window. He'd been reminiscing all afternoon about his little girl sister, and here was a young woman sister. He'd have to revise his thinking. He reminded himself to ask her for opinions about where they could go for a Journey. -

Munrarae wept at the tragedy her fantastic tome revealed, and for the hero's flaw similar to her own, which had cost him his birthright and his kingdom. He succumbed to temptation, weak of will. She looked up as her door clicked, the latch against the tauri lifting as it opened. She hid her face when she saw who it was, and gulped back a few pitiful tears so he wouldn't feel too bad for her. He flopped down on her water sack bed, making both of them roll and tumble with the wave. She pawed her eyes furtively, but he caught her hand, and then her shoulder, and dragged her, claws sheathed, into his lap and hugged her.

"Well, heart of mine, you've not heeded my advice."

She twisted around to look up at him, and sniffed morosely.

"Maybe I can't put it behind me, when I see it everywhere around me." She buried her senses in the comfort of his arm, knowing that at least here was someone who would forgive her, no matter how terrible or needless her crime. His muscles rippled against her closed eyelids as he pulled her against his chest.

"Well, then maybe you need to go somewhere where you can't see it, and nobody knows about it." She huffed blearily into the bend of his elbow.

"I'd have to leave school to do that. You know I won't."

He stroked her velvety ear, watching it flick reflexively against the tickling. "Not even to do study abroad?"

She jerked upright and struggled to face him, searching him for evidence of teasing. "You mean it? You've convinced the Master to let you Journey?" Finding no sign of jest, she nearly crushed him with an enthusiastic embrace. He chuckled breathlessly until she let go, and then twiddled her ear again.

"I still have to convince him to let you come with me, though. It'll be soon, this summer definitely. We'll go to Iaguarra Esnivor, learn bardic arts from the best, Leona, to learn metalcraft... Perhaps to Piuma and the textile masters. And of course, Tighera for their supreme wealth of ceramics and stonework. I think we'll have to finagle it a bit so you'll get credit for what you learn, but we'll go. And I'll have my Journey. " She did not notice the slight conflict of regret and excitement in his voice, for she was deep in her designs for future wisdom. She was consoled, despite her guilt. She was going to start anew. Maybe she could convince her three best comrades, compatriots, and allies to accompany her... They forgave her, even if they didn't know the magnitude of her guilt. Nia, Ally, and Ev. They would come. They'd been her circle since she'd moved to Khorea, and they'd all traded support and confidences before.

He stood up with her in his arms, and set her down again on the bed when he'd reassured hismelf of her mood. He wouldn't finish school, but with all the persuasive powers available to him, he'd make sure she could. He latched the door behind him and sauntered off to confront the Master of her grade. And his.

-

Mairnatali was not particularly surprised when the Keeper of the Book Tower was called to task for negligence. Her brother and his little soggy diversion had finally been broken by her will. They'd disappeared over the last few days, and when one asked their few friends (she could list them on one hand), they were either also suddenly gone, or they said it was something for school. She managed to avoid the blame for the ruined novel, but did not see the accusing or contemptuous glances from the regulars of the library. She did not notice, either, that three of those regulars were gone, and that they corresponded with Rarae's friends who had abruptly quitted the House.

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